


Transformers Drabbles

by Scientist_Salarian



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-07-28 13:28:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7642459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scientist_Salarian/pseuds/Scientist_Salarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some short drabbles that came about after reading MTMTE 55, over which I am still weeping. There will be pain, there will be sad, there might be ships who knows what'll happen in the drabbles. Rating may possibly change as more drabbles are added.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alone

His spark burned. 

What happened, what was happening.

_Goodbye._

His visor flashed, nonono ** _no_**.

Their connection was weakening, he felt the distress of his other symbiotes as they too realized, the failing link, the flickers of emotion and pain.

_Goodbye._

He offered his own strength, to siphon off enough to survive, to be made whole. The offer was declined, only closeness and comfort desired, taking enough to maintain coherence until he returned.

He reached out again, desperate as their bond began to stretch thin, his spark pulsed, their bond was breaking,

_Don’t leave me._

_He is here._

This was what he waited for, relief, Megatron was functioning the DJD gone. A message was passed, he waited until Megatron was there. Warmth flooded their bond one last time, love and regret, then it was gone, a gaping hole left where it was ripped from his very spark.

_Goodbye._

Soundwave grasped his console tightly, his spark reaching and searching and finding only the echoes of the bond they had shared. He turned inward, soothing and trying to calm the frantic sparks of his remaining symbiotes, his remaining children…

_Ravage._

_The oldest and the first.  
_

_Goodbye Ravage…_


	2. After 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron writes a message he never intends to send and reflects on what followed his defeating Tarn.

_~~I made a mistake today~~. I made a choice. I made a decision on a whim and… Undid everything I had built. _

_Perhaps they were right about me. ~~They will never trust me again~~ , I will never change, ~~I am a coward~~ , I’m not strong enough._

_Primus, I don’t even know why I’m bothering writing this to you. To give you the satisfaction of knowing I failed?_

_No. I know you would be disappointed in me._

Megatron could almost see the disappointed in those gentle blue optics, how the corners of them would crease as he frowned beneath his mask.

_Maybe it’s because you seem to know me best. We have played this game so long and I feel you are the only one who truly understands me._

_~~Thank you for being…~~ How pathetic is that?_

_We lost Ravage today. ~~I failed him~~ I regret I was unable to save him. ~~I am a coward~~ I didn’t know if I had the strength to fight._

_But… they saved me._

One face was replaced with another, blue optics bright and hopeful, a hand that reached for his own. He remembered how he hesitated. He wanted to be left there, to finally let the universe be rid of his memory.

But he had allowed his hand to be taken, to feel the mech grasp his hand tightly and rip him from the hell that he left Tarn to.

Then he faced Ravage.

Ravage who had been the catalyst, Ravage who had to…

To make him remember.

**Never change.  
**

But he had changed, even now he was changing, he had been changed and this, this place had done this to him.

He thought of Rodimus’s servo held in his own, grounding him.

Rodimus.

He thought of how the mech had looked at him as he needed to get away, he was suffocating, the atmosphere thick with pain and the feeling of loss.

He let him go.

Rodimus.

_I’m sorry._


	3. Why

Why.

Why, I want to ask you.

Why were you so insistent, why did you look at me with such hope in your optics. Why do you care so much?

I shouldn't matter so much.

Your hands fit in mine, I could envelope one easily in my own. 

Why.

Why do I care so much?

I had lost my way, Terminus helped me remember that.  Terminus, Primus I hadn’t realized how much his presence had meant to me.

_ Don’t get attached. _

I tried not to, Primus knows I tried. I looked back at Ravage, I had been attached, but knew my pain paled in comparison to the one that was planet's away and could only feel as Ravage left us.

_ Don’t get attached. _

I had embraced him, I had been so happy to see him, I couldn’t… it brought some peace to the turmoil of my spark. His surprise, I had expected it. 

_ I lost my way. _

Tarn’s mask, I couldn’t stand to look at it and it fell, I crushed it beneath my boot, I would not give in. I could not change back.

I promised him.

Ravage had faith in me. 

  
You gave me the time that I required, you came and found me not two days after… what I had done. 

You let yourself in and took the empty place beside me and you waited. At least, I assumed you were waiting. 

I didn’t know exactly what you were waiting for, so I watched you from the corner of my optic. You sighed and fidgeted, you don’t like the quiet as I had come to learn. 

You knew that Terminus had gone to rest for the evening, and you knew that I needed company. Even though I wasn’t sure if your company was,...

No.

I appreciate your company. I appreciate the energy that you bring with you. Your methods are unorthodox and quite disconcerting but somehow against all odds things… work out.

I saw your optics cycle in surprise, how you spoke to me,

“ _ What? What are you looking at?” _

You. I’m looking at you.

Apparently I had said that out loud as you had laughed, and smiled. 

“ _ Yah I guess that’s true.” _

I took a moment to look at you, to truly look at you. Your expression had changed, curious but… you seemed unafraid.

“ _ Megatron?” _

For a moment I am unsure of what to say. Words have always been my most powerful weapon, and I wielded them with a skill that very nearly brought the entirely of Cybertron to heel.

Now I am at a loss for words.

But you, in an uncharacteristic show of patience wait. Once again I am taken aback by how small your hands are, I could easily close the entirely of one of mine around both of yours. Each digit delicate, but there is strength in your hands, I had felt it when you took hold of mine and would not let go.

You had refused to let go.

Do you still accept me? Do you still accept me for everything that I am.

And all that I am not.


	4. When the storm clears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pharma reflects on things he feels he has no control over.

Contrary to what many of my staff believe during our sojourn to Messatine I did not hate the storms. I had hated what came after the storms had passed.

Perhaps I would gripe and groan, as those of us to be blessed with flight frames being trapped on the ground was… decidedly most uncomfortable. I longed for the open air and sky, to not be trapped behind walls of steel and ice.

But I loved the storms the most. When the wind howled and the cold would creep down corridors and chill ones plating to the core, how one’s spark would twist and how the fuel pump would slow and how one’s intake would burn drawing in the cold air. 

I knew better, I would listen to the quiet sighs and complaints, how those who wanted to wander and roam once the weather cleared hated to be trapped inside as I was, but I knew the storms kept us safe. 

For when the gale dies down and the snow stops falling the monsters come out. 

I regret ever laying my optics on Tarn, I regret the moment that monster found me and how for the good of myself and for my staff I brokered a deal. I hated myself for it, and what it meant I needed a deal but he would stay away. He would stay away a long as I provided him with what he needed he would allow us to remain and stay away.

 I know I am a fool for trusting him at his word, me, one of the greatest if not the greatest Surgeon ever forged on Cybertron being threatened and bought so easily. 

I hate him. 

I will always hate him, for what he has done to me, what he has made me do but… 

It frees me, I feel liberated. I feel the joy in my spark, the warmth that spreads from servo to pede as I do what I was created to do. Clean lines, beautiful lines! Striping away plating and protoform to expose the cradle beneath, the warmth of a fresh, beautiful cog between my fingers.

He will waste it, he always wastes them, overworks them, burdens them until they warp and crack inside him and he ruins them.

 I hate him.

 I hate how he rewards me for my work, hate the caressing touch of his voice on my spark, how it twists and aches by his voice alone. I hate that I can never stop, that I will never stop.

 I hate how maddening he is, jeering and teasing, terrible, savage, and beautiful. I hate that I can never stop the way my spark aches, the pulses speeding up whenever I am contacted for our next rendezvous where I am to prove to him once again why I am invaluable and why I am the only one would could do this for him.

 I hate how his shadow always looms over me, how freely I go to him even though Primus knows each time could be my very last. Primus knows that one day I will no longer be able to provide him with what he needs and we will all die here.

 He would spare no one and he makes that clear, a cog for a life.

 A cog for a life, are we so worthless in his optics? Playing god in such a way that only he could. Because even though he would accept a cog to stay away from my facility a life is still taken, a spark is still extinguished to feed his addiction. I am but a tool, his instrument supplying him with what he needs and what he craved.

 Each time, time and time again I feel I will be caught, eventually will be caught. I would have been suspicious to see patients beginning to recover to suddenly turn up dead, how their deactivations needed to be done in such a way that it would never come back to me.

 And the lines, the beautiful clean lines to hide that that was missing, so perfect that no one would be ever able to tell anything was missing. Perhaps I lived for the thrill of being caught, to know there was suspicions amongst my staff and yet… No, they would never figure it out ever, I hid it well. I timed it perfectly, they would never know it was me.

 No one would ever be able to tell it was me.

 Still, the risk of discovery always hung over my head, just as there were always risks whenever I would steal away to meet with Tarn to deliver the cog and be the one to replace his burnt out one. I always had an explanation, and who can deny a flight frame just that when the skies were clear?

 And what could I do if they caught me? Run? Hide? There would be no place for me to go if it was to ever get out, I would be a disgrace, breaking the oath of my very profession.

 Oh Primus what am I doing! I can’t do this, I shouldn’t do this. I can’t keep doing this for eventually I will run out and what then, what then when I no longer have any cogs to give him…

 I will think about it then, for now I have no reason to worry… there are always mechs at Delphi that will not be missed.

 The storm is clearing, I had best prepare myself to go.

 This will be the last time.

 I will not do this again.


End file.
